


In These Arms

by bashert



Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: Babies, F/M, Post Season 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-11
Updated: 2014-07-11
Packaged: 2018-02-08 10:13:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1936983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bashert/pseuds/bashert
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i> This is a kind of tired she has never been before. She feels like every part of her is tired, will never not be tired. It's worth it, it's so completely worth the long nights and the near constant exhaustion, but it's hard, God is it hard.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	In These Arms

**Author's Note:**

> All the talk of babies is to blame for this. The title is from the song by the band The Swell Season.

It's a lot harder than she expected it to be.

She knew it was going to be hard; she wasn't that naive. All the books warned of sleepless nights, of exhaustion that seeps into the very marrow of your bones, but reading it and living it are two very different things.

The baby won't stop crying. She hasn't stopped crying in days (and Mac feels like the world's worst mother because it takes her longer than maybe it should to realize Charlie is teething). It's worse when they lay her down, so she and Will have taken turns the past few nights wearing a path down the hallway. At his wit's end, and unaccustomed to feeling helpless and useless, Will runs out in the middle of the night and buys every teething ring he can get his hands on at the 24-hour drugstore. He dumps it on the couch next to Mac and the baby, who finally cried herself out and was fast asleep, dried tear tracks down her tiny cheeks.

"Maybe one of these will help," he suggests, running a hand over his face.

"I hate that she's in pain," Mac feels ridiculously close to tears herself. She thinks listening to Charlotte's never-ending screams have left her a little unhinged. Will drops a kiss to the crown of his wife's head.

"Does she really need teeth, you think?" He's rewarded with the barest hint of a smile from Mac.

"At least she's asleep," Mac sighs.

"I'd offer to take her, but I don't want to risk waking her back up," Will says and Mac nods tiredly.

"Go get some sleep, make up already complained about the dark circles under your eyes, we don't need to give them more to bitch about," Mac reaches out the hand that is not resting on the baby's back and gives Will's hand a squeeze. They didn't complain to Mac, of course, and to be fair Mac knew the complaining was mostly teasing, but it's late and she's tired and she feels she's allowed to feel a little righteous indignation.

Will scoffs, "like I care." He waves a hand to emphasize just how little he does care.

"One of us should get some good sleep," Mac argues. "I'll try to get some sleep out here while she's sleeping." Mac is splayed out on the couch, Charlie resting on her chest, and she's slept in worse, less comfortable places in her lifetime.

Will finally nods, giving Mac a gentle kiss before trailing a hand down the baby's soft cheek. He throws some of the teething rings into the freezer and drags his weary body down the hall to their bedroom, collapsing into bed and feeling guilty about Mac being out on the couch with Charlie, but exhaustion creeps in, taking over and he's asleep in seconds.

Mac's asleep a few hours later when he stumbles out into the living room. As gently as possible, he picks Charlie up off of Mac's chest. Mac blinks her eyes open at the weight of the baby being lifted from her.

"Go back to sleep, sweetheart," Will instructs, and Mac has barely enough energy to nod and roll over, burying her head into the couch.

By some miracle, Charlotte stays asleep, and he carries her away from the living room and into the kitchen so he can make some coffee (and it's amazing how many things he's learned to do one-handed). She wakes up as he's pouring his first cup, screwing up her face as if deciding whether or not to cry. Will reaches into the freezer for one of the teething rings.

"I know it hurts, pumpkin," he soothes, brushing a kiss to her forehead. "I know." He glances out into the living room, but Mac is still down for the count.

He never thought he'd be here. Kids had never really been something he thought about (except the first time around with Mac. She remains the one and only woman he's ever considered procreating with), and they had barely had time to discuss the possibility of children when the stick turned pink.

Charlotte is easily the best thing he's ever done (with maybe the exception of getting his head out of his ass and proposing to MacKenzie, but A lead to B, so he considers it a wash). And though he worries about being a father, letting her down (because God knows that he didn't have exactly the best role model), he thinks he's doing a pretty good fucking job so far (he also knows the combination of his and Mac's genes means that this kid is going to give them a run for their money when she gets older, but that's far enough away that he doesn't have to worry about it just yet).

Will takes Charlie, teething ring clamped firmly between her aching gums, and steps out onto the balcony. It's a warm, August morning, and he settles on the chaise lounge, breathing in the muggy late summer air. He sips his coffee and talks about the midterm elections to Charlotte. He's found that she finds the rumble of his voice soothing, and it matters little what he's actually saying.

"That seems to be working," Mac's tired voice startles him and he turns his head to see his wife making her way out to join them. "The teething ring, I mean." The baby flaps her arms happily at the sight of her mother, and Mac scoops her up, pressing kisses to Charlie's soft cheeks and then drops down between Will's legs, leaning back against him.

"For the moment," he agrees.

"I'm so fucking tired," Mac sighs and Will hums in agreement, dropping his nose into her hair.

He tightens his hold on Mac, knowing, suddenly, that everything he needs, everything that makes him whole and happy, is contained right at that moment within the length of his arms.

"It gets easier, I hear," Will murmurs. Mac snorts.

"Who the fuck told you that?" She asks, amusement evident in her tone.

"Elliott," Will admits.

"I think he lied to you," Mac laughs lightly.

"Well, at the very least I think we start to get more sleep at some point," Will huffs. Mac tilts her head back, brushes a kiss to his chin.

"I'll take that. I would love to get more sleep," she replies. She had spent years being dog-tired, but this is different. This is a kind of tired she has never been before. She feels like every part of her is tired, will never not be tired. It's worth it, it's so completely worth the long nights and the near constant exhaustion, but it's hard, God is it hard.

"Close your eyes," he instructs gently. "I got you." And Mac lets out a ragged sigh, adjusting her hold on her daughter's tiny body, and closes her eyes again.


End file.
